Redemption Comes from the Small Things
by KiyaJinnSkywalkerKenobi
Summary: Hate. It consumed him until there was nothing left in him to give. Or so he thought. Who was this girl? And how is she making him reconsider his whole life? Is it even possible to change? To,forgive? TO LOVE? R&R please! Can also be put into the Star Wars Category.
1. Chapter 1

Redemption Comes from the Small Things

So, this is a Xanatos redemption fic. I couldn't find one on fanfiction so I decided to write my own. I always thought of Xan as good potential for a big brother... Anyway, I also had this idea from one of my favorited stories, a Twist in Fate by Eryninn. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and tell me what you thought. Please make sure to read about Xanatos on wookieepedia if you don't know about him. Thx!

He seethed as he looked out the window, contemplating his next move. Yes, anger. He must hold on to it, cherish it, nurture it. He must have revenge on his master for what he did to him, how he ruined his life. His green eyes glowed uncannily as he stared out the window at his target: the Jedi Temple. More specifically, the one window connected to the small balcony.

Yes, he would sneak in, he would plant his mark of the broken circle, he would execute his plan, all would be well. He refused to think of what he would do after his goal was accomplished. He refused to face the fact that he would have no more anger to hold on towards any other person, he wouldn't contemplate the thought that would have nothing else to do, no other purpose in life after it was all done. Nothing but hide from the Jedi. And flee for the rest of his life, killing any who got in his way.

No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't think of it. He brought his fist down on the table next to him, hard, and snarled inwardly. He must be strong. He must have anger to fuel him. He took a deep breath and began.

He climbed into the speeder, zipped off towards the noted and targeted balcony.

As he cut a circle in the glass door that allowed access into the temple, he didn't notice the figure sitting by the wall. The small, girlish face that tilted upwards with a face full of hope.

When he finally stepped through, his head whipped around at the sound of a tiny sigh, red lightsaber immediately at the ready. His lip curled and he growled, not having the patience to deal with this- this girl, by the looks of it. And opened his mouth. And for some reason utterly beyond him, asked a question.

"What do you want, child?"

...

The girl walked down the hallway, hand trailing across the smooth walls, hanging her head and sighing wistfully. She made her way to the room she always went to, the same time every night, and curled herself by the wall of the empty room, waiting. She always made vigil here. Always waiting, for the sight of someone in particular to enter the room. She never doubted her dream. The one that told her that her long-wanted, never-known brother would come.

She never told anyone, not even her beloved father, about the dream.

She waited night after night for him to appear, but was never truly disappointed when he didn't show up. She knew better. She would just wait.

All of the crèche masters tried to see what she did every night to create such dark circles under her eyes, but they never found out. Not until later. But that would be revealing too much.

She sagged against the wall, reaching out as best she could to the Force, and searching for the arrival of the special someone. And she found it, finally, after weeks of waiting, she felt it. And watched, silently, committing every line, every feature of the person that she could see in the dark, to memory. She saw the green eyes, the jet-black hair. And she frowned at the dark feeling that surrounded the man that had just walked through the hole in the glass. She sighed wistfully. Why was he bad? Yes, bad, according to everyone else. Bad, because she could tell that by the color of his lightsaber. No matter. He was still her brother.

But as his face whipped towards her, she wasn't afraid. No, she had no reason to be. This was her brother. And as his face contorted in anger and annoyance, she felt sad. Until he asked the question. The fateful question.

"What do you want, child?"

...

He almost felt disbelieving towards himself. What was that question about? Now the child would think he was being nice. Humph. His eyes glittered in his twisted amusement. Nice indeed. But he was surprised when he got an answer. A strange answer.

"Nothing- and everything."

He mulled the answer over for a moment before deciding that he was too old to be nonplussed by such a statement. His answer was cool.

"Oh? And what could possibly be nothing and yet everything?"

She shrugged. "Everything to me, nothing to others, nothing because it cannot be bought or given, everything because I want nothing more. It is too much, too precious to ask for." The last sentence was self-deprecating, as though she had forgotten that he was there. His lip curled. Why was he here, having a conversation with this girl?

"I see. Nonsense. You must take what you want, child. Whatever it is." He turned to walk forwards and leave when she made one last sentence that stopped him in his tracks.

"And if it's something you can't take? What do I do then?"

He turned his head so that his profile showed against the dim, street lights that filtered through the window. "Anything can be taken, young one."

"Maybe that's true, in a sense. But something from the heart cannot be taken. It must be given. Like... forgiveness."

He stiffened and turned himself towards the child. What did this child know of forgiveness? Of matters of the heart?

"And what do you know of forgiveness?"

She looked at him, and he noticed for the first time the color of her eyes. Milky blue. His eyes flared with anger, and yet a strange feeling stirred within. He crushed it mercilessly, not caring what it was.

"Much. And nothing. All, yet none." She went back to staring at her knees in front of her.

He clenched his fists in agitation.

"You seem to like making riddles." He ground out. "Kindly explain."

She looked up again, and he noticed, startled, that her eyes were now the same emerald green as his were.

"I have asked for it. Given it. But I have never fully understood it. Yes I know the words and the feeling. But can I say that I know it for what is truly is?" She shrugged.

He thought about her answer for a moment, finally coming up with a reply.

"You are a mystery, child. One I would love to solve. But I don't have much time now, so kindly tell me who you are."

She answered in a pained voice. "No one, and everyone. Important, yet not. Small, yet big. Who knows who I am? No one can tell you. You must answer it yourself."

He snarled in anger as his nerves frayed. He didn't have time for this. He stalked out of the room, and walked about the hallways of the Jedi temple angrily, swiftly, silently. He quietly found his destination, and slipped the note he had written underneath the right door. And quietly left.

As he returned to his speeder, he wondered. About the girl. About her answers. Who was she? What was she? He smiled bitterly as he wondered, and made his decision. Yes, he would find out. He would return.

He walked past the slender figure of the girl and walked out of the hole he had made. Before he drove away, though, a sentence slipped from him through the hole and into the ears of the girl.

"I find you very interesting, child. Perhaps I will answer the question you have posed."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She was there again. He had known that she would be. He had watched the havoc that had overcome the temple as the word of the break-in had spread. And he had wondered if she had said anything. But he brushed the thought away. As if it would really matter, anyway? But as he returned that night, he returned for a different purpose than the one he had had last night.

...

She was waiting for him. Yes, she wanted to get to know him. To hear his voice, no matter how harsh. To see what he looked like. To gauge his personality and to find out more about him.

She was waiting, as usual, in the same room, but this time, she was sitting in a different spot. One that was slightly illuminated by the faint lights from outside.

When he finally came, she just sat, and drew in the dust on the floor. Until he spoke.

"I see that you have come again."

She smiled softly. "As have you."

He let out a snort, but leaned against the wall comfortably and studied her small frame. Her curly hair. And smiled grimly.

"So, I never learned your name, young one."

She tilted her head for a moment. "Kiya."

He repeated the name in his head and crossed his arms. "I see."

"And yours?" He hesitated for a moment. Would he? Somehow, he realized, he felt a strange connection to the girl. And he hated her the more for it. Why? Why did he feel that way?

"Xanatos." The word slipped out almost without his own volition.

The girl whispered the name. He found himself liking the sound of his name spoken by the girl. He shook himself mentally and his eyes narrowed.

"Why?" The girl's question was simple.

"Why what?" His voice was irritable.

"Why are you-" he saw the girl struggle for words. She frowned. "Hurt?"

His lip curled as he hissed from the old wound that the girl's words touched.

"I didn't come here to be interrogated." His voice was durasteel.

The girl sighed. " I'm sorry." Her voice was apologetic, and- he caught a note of sympathy.

"Save your sympathy for one who needs it, child. I have no use for your empty words."

He expected her to cringe, to be hurt at his words, not lift her head and look at him with those chocolaty brown eyes brimming with light.

"Words are what make us. Hurt us. Change us. Words are what makes up the world. There is no such thing as an empty word, for each has a meaning, even as the word empty itself has a million ways to describe it and explain it."

And he marveled. At the sheer intuitiveness of the child. At the wisdom in those bright depths.

He felt a brush of the light enter his mind and cringed, jerking away from the forgiveness, the beauty, the brightness, the promise- no! He mustn't! He panicked for a moment before recoiling away.

"Don't. Do. That." He hissed.

She looked up at him. "Do what?"

And he realized that the light hadn't come from her. But from deep within himself.

"Nothing." His answer was terse.

"I thought you were supposed to interrogate me." Her voice held a touch of amusement. Wha-? Oh, yes.

"Well, I think I've already learned that straight answers don't come from you, haven't I?" He retorted sourly.

A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth.

"Perhaps not. But then, I still answer without fail."

That humor, he snarled darkly to himself. That dry humor. Curse it. It was too familiar, too much like his former master's.

"Who are your parents?"

She shrugged. "Many know my father and mother. My mother's dead." He noted the avoidance of the question and decided to ask another.

"Are you a Padawan yet, child?"

"No. I'm too young." Her voice was patient, not worried.

He harrumphed to himself. Patient indeed. Overconfident, perhaps.

"No. I'm just not worried that I won't be chosen, because I know I will."

He realized that she had read his thoughts and stared. What kind of child could use the Force so well at such an early age?

"Oh? What makes you think so?"

"I know so. Because the Force told me." He smiled. Yes, the Force. Typical answer. One like his master would use. Would his master think it was the will of the Force that he die?

"Who was your master?" The curiosity in her voice drew him out, startled. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. His thoughts had been shielded.

"How are you listening to my thoughts that are shielded?" His voice was dangerous.

She looked up at him, confusion coloring her face. "I don't know. I just, heard it. In my head." She drew in the dust again while he stared wonderingly. How? The only answer to that could be that he-no. He refused to believe it. A bond? With this pitiful child?

She sighed. "Yes. I suppose I am, aren't I?" He glared.

"Stop reading my thoughts." Her face contorted for a moment before it returned to a sad face.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, hanging her head.

Pitiful indeed. "And why would you yourself think that you are pitiful?"

Her face took on a pained look. One he knew well. One he could actually relate to. The feeling of being rejected. Forlorn. Lonely. But while he had channeled these feelings into acceptance of the dark side, she had obviously done something else. But what?

"Because of who I am. Whose blood I belong to. The way I live."

Strangely, he felt himself understanding her strange words. Was he not also hurt by whose blood he belonged to? After all, his father had been murdered, and was he not living the way he was because of it?

"I see."

"Do you?"

Insolent- "Perhaps more than you know."

"Perhaps. Or maybe you don't truly understand the heart behind my words. Anyone can take the same sentence in a different way."

And again, he wondered at the nature of this child. So young, yet had wisdom perhaps equal to even that old green troll. He scoffed at himself. He was becoming weak. By what? His mind taunted. By a mere girl, his mind sneered. But he felt himself rejecting that thought. No, here was more than just a girl. Here was an enigma. One he had determined to find out.

"You are wise, young one." His voice held a grudging admiration.

She looked up and his hard heart melted a little, unbeknownst to him, at the expression on her face. One of pure happiness at his remark. He didn't need to see her smile. He could tell by her ever-changing eyes.

"Thank you." Her voice was a whisper.

"And what, then, is the meaning behind your words?"

She paused, then began to speak. "I am the daughter of one who cannot get past his grief. I am the blood of his blood, the flesh of his flesh, of one who blames himself for the loss of one that was a son to him. He blames himself that he never told this son that he loved him. And he cannot bring himself to say it again. Not even to his own. I do not blame him. I know, without words, that he loves me. But I live the way I live because I was stripped of something I had always wanted- never got."

He felt pity for the child. "Yes. I can relate, young one." His voice was melancholy, distant. "I can relate. I also, cannot get past my hurts. This is the only way I know how. To kill, to take what I want, to have my vengeance against the one who has made me live this way. But I cannot change. I have gone too far." He stirred himself and stood. "I will come again. And I will continue to try to solve you, child."

She looked up at him, and her eyes glowed amber in the faint light. "I will wait. For you to solve me, as you say. There is only one way, and you are getting closer."

He scoffed again inwardly, and left. Yes, he would solve that insolent brat. But he couldn't help but admit his grudging admiration and curiosity for her, and for her ways. How she had managed to trap him in this web of finding out who she was. This web, of nothing but a clever spinning of words.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He watched. And waited. For his time. He hadn't forgotten about his plan. But he found himself drawn more towards the child now. Who was she, really? And he wondered for the umpteenth time. Somehow, he felt that this girl held the key, the answer, to his ultimate goal. To have revenge. He must solve this puzzle, find the answer. He smiled bitterly. Yes, always her and words.

He arrived as usual, to find her there, waiting. Sitting, this time, on a couch in the room. She held something in her hands. A string, he realized. A golden colored string. And something else, too, hidden in her palm.

"Brat."

To his amusement, she gave him a shy smile.

"Because I made it before you, as usual?"

He couldn't help but smile at her quick wit and humor. "Perhaps."

"You seem to like that word. Maybe I can give you some more."

"Brat."

She let out a childish giggle. And for the first in a long time, he felt- oddly, peaceful. He walked towards her and sat down beside her. What was it about this girl that could make him feel so much at calm? What was it that made him gravitate towards her?

"Here. I want you to have this." Her voice was quiet, shy.

He looked at the thing she offered him and took it, studying the small crystal. It was golden and shimmered faintly in the light. "Amber."

She nodded. "It's like the color of my hair."

He looked at her hair and found himself admiring it. It looked like moth's wing, or a shimmering silk, or even a dew-flecked spider's web. Soft and silky. It was a brownish-blonde color, like the amber that he now held in his palm. He suddenly wondered what her hair felt like, but restrained himself. What did he care?

"So. What made you come here in the first place?"

She smiled at his wordless acceptance of her gift, and he inwardly felt awkward.

"I was waiting."

"For whom, may I ask?"

"For you." Her simple answer made him start.

"How did you know I would come?"

"Because I had a dream that you would."

His eyes narrowed again. "I see. And why me?"

She paused. "That is part of the puzzle, Xanatos."

His lip curled for a moment in irritation, but then she asked a question.

"And you?"

"Because I had business here."

Her voice was a little mortified. "I know. I meant with who."

"With one of the Jedi."

She rolled her eyes. "And you complain about me not answering a question."

He smirked. "Give what you get."

She looked at him grimly. "Why don't you?"

He raised his eyebrow.

"I mean, what did he ever do to you?"

He snarled. "He murdered my father."

"Why?" Her voice was not judgmental, just curious.

He hesitated. "Because my father was corrupt." He hastened to justify himself.

"But he was my father nonetheless!"

To his surprise, she nodded. "I know. I just wanted to see what you thought about it. You are right in your thinking, but perhaps you should also think about it from this other person's point of view too. There are always two sides of a story. Did you ever talk to him about it?"

Her wisdom and insight baffled him. "No. How do you know, insolence?"

She smiled mysteriously. "I know much. And little." She shrugged. "I heard your story."

He felt embarrassed. Of course. She lived in the Jedi temple, after all. In his embarrassment, he spoke gruffly.

"So why should I give anything but murder as well?"

"Because after you do it, would it make you feel any better? Not ever knowing what he truly felt about it? Not ever having your questions answered?"

He mulled for a moment. "I- never thought about it." His voice was reluctant.

Wisely, she didn't say anything else. Until they heard the wall chrono chime.

"I see that my nightly piece of wisdom has been given and you have fitted another piece of my puzzle put into place." He smile was slightly amused.

He smirked and stood. Before he stepped into his speeder, he turned his profile to her and studied the halo of light that graced her silky hair. "Next time I come, I might just bring you a gift, brat."

She smiled. She understood his awkward way of thanks for the amber. Yes, he would think of something.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He walked in again, and was not surprised to find her in a large chair big enough for both him and her to sit in it. He sat down and wordlessly handed her a crystal. She took it and squealed softly in delight. It was an emerald green color, cut to perfection and polished brightly. It was long, and hole had been ground into the top. He had spent hours that day searching for the exact color. He watched as she took the golden string he had seen her fingering last night and slip the crystal on, tying it around her neck. She fingered it and he watched her smile.

"I like it. It's the same pretty green as your eyes."

He fingered his own amber crystal that hung around his neck from a green string, and she looked at it, and smiled happily.

"Give what you get."

She giggled childishly.

"Does this mean we're friends?"

He paused. "I suppose so, insolent brat, though I cannot for the life of me figure out why."

She gave him an impish grin. "Because I'm a brat."

He chuckled at her, and they settled into a comfortable silence.

"When are you planning to do it?"

He knew what she meant. "I don't know, brat. I've been thinking lately about what you've said. Despite my common sense, I'm listening to you." He replied lazily, running his fingers through his black hair.

She snorted. "Common sense, my eyes. I wouldn't have known you had any."

He glared horribly, while she snickered in his face. "Insolent."

"That's why you like me, remember?"

His lip curled and he said nothing.

"Got you, pouty."

He snarled and dug his finger into her side. She yelped and then squirmed.

"No! Stop! Xan!" He stopped at the sound of his old nickname. Strangely, though, he liked it when she said it. "Only you can get away with calling me that, brat."

She stared at him curiously before startling him for the hundredth time. By crawling into his lap. "Wha-?"

She snuggled in comfortably, and sighed wearily, grasping his shirt. He felt angry at first, until he looked at her face and noticed the deep circles under his eyes. He felt guilty. It was, after all because of him that she didn't sleep for a long time each night. He was tensed, but after a minute or so, relaxed by degrees and finally placed his arm around her awkwardly, patting her back.

She giggled, to his chagrin. "You don't do that right."

"Well spare me." He retorted sarcastically. She said nothing, and his conscience pricked him. He rubbed her arm apologetically, and was relived when she gave him a faint smile of forgiveness. Funny, he thought absently, how good that simple forgiveness felt.

What would it be like to be forgiven for killing all the Jedi he had? To forgive his old master? Was his master even mournful about it? Wishing for his forgiveness? He thought back to the day that it had all happened. His old master's face, begging for forgiveness. His own blinded rage and hate. His refusal. Qui-Gon's face twisting in grief at his words. And he wondered. What would it be like? Would it feel good, to forgive and be forgiven?

He pondered, and wondered. And that brought him back to the girl in his lap. He looked down at her hair, and gave in. What was it, about this girl? He wondered for the millionth time. What made him think about such things? He stroked her hair gently, feeling for the first time what that silky mop felt like. He tangled his fingers in it, and combed it back out. It felt- it felt like- like what one would think sticking a hand in a cloud would feel like. Light, airy, silky, soft.

He sighed regretfully, and stood, placing her back on the chair.

"I must leave, little one." She peered up at him for a moment, then smiled relievedly as she understood that he had put another piece into place in the puzzle. She waved gently, and for a moment, he was concerned. Would she make it to her room?

He suddenly searched in his mind, and found what he was looking for. A thread, a cord that stretched between them. He opened his mind to it and almost staggered at the brilliance that radiated across that link. He choked in shock. What light! Brilliance! He finally accustomed himself to it, only to find her hyperventilating in the chair. He suddenly realized what he was doing to her and slammed a shield over the link. The darkness in him was too much for her mind.

He carefully shielded himself and then opened it again. She stopped shivering and looked at him quizzically. He sent over a thought. /Can you make it to your room?/

She smiled faintly. /I'm not a youngling./

He rolled his eyes as he climbed back into his speeder. /Says you./ and he closed the link as he sped away once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

He had paced his room all night, thinking, ripping at his hair. Struggling with his demons and angels. He needed to forgive! No, he wanted to hate! Forgiveness! Revenge! He yelled in anger and crumpled the cup in his hands viciously.

Curse the girl! For what she was doing to him. For how she made him feel. Feel! Yes, that was the problem. But he couldn't crush it down anymore. No, he just, couldn't.

When he finally thought he would go completely mad, his heart suddenly stretched out, seeking a presence. A familiar presence. One that would bring him peace. One that would bring him comfort. One that held answers. Answers! Yes, he would find her.

He fingered the amulet at his neck and wondered at himself. How could he have allowed her to worm her way into his heart? How had they bonded? He felt torn. He couldn't connect himself to that mind. That brilliant light, because of the hate he bore within his own. He would kill her with the darkness. He cringed at the thought of that precious force-signature disappearing, fading.

He sank into a chair, gripping the amulet. He couldn't tear it away, he couldn't touch it. He didn't deserve the forgiveness those milky blue eyes offered, he couldn't mar the child with his wounds and neediness. But he wanted it so much. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, losing that forgiveness and brightness.

And for the first time, he wished he wasn't so selfish. He realized, now, that he had always been selfish. How selfish! Now, he was paying for it.

His eyes stung. How? How could he face his master, ask for forgiveness? To grant it in return? To give what he got? And how could he bear it if he was rejected?

He was now torn again. But this time, he was torn because of the two options he faced. Either be selfish and go to the girl, or be selfless and don't.

He finally opened himself to the Force, tentatively, cautiously. To the light side. For answers. He cringed at the brightness, and then reached out for answers. Go, it whispered. You must seek her.

He struggled. He was now neither light nor dark, good, nor bad. He was divided. One foot in the dark, one foot in the light. In the twilight zone. The region of grey. It would have to stay that way for now, he decided, and stood. He ignored the screams of the dark side to return, and took off for the temple.

But how would he find her? It was broad daylight. How would he see her when it was not yet night?

...

"Kiya! Kiya Jinn!" She turned at the voice of the crèche master and bowed.

"Where have you been? Your father is looking for you." She nodded wordlessly and followed the master. Her father stood in the doorway and smiled softly when he saw her. Her face lit up with a tentative smile, and she walked forwards shyly. He knelt and hugged her tightly, placing a kiss on her cheek. She smiled softly and returned it.

"I decided to stop by as I took hall patrol duty, Kiya. Are you well?" She nodded shyly and looked into the same misty blue eyes as hers. His smile was loving, and she felt content. Yes, even though he never truly opened up, she wasn't hurt. No, she knew better. Once her brother would come, they would be happy. A real family.

In the mean time, she was happy to wait, content with the loving smiles and fond kisses.

He nodded and left soon afterwards. She fingered the amulet hidden under her robe and smiled wistfully. She missed him. She went to take a nap and wait for the long-awaited evening to come, eyes flashing a bright and deep green as she lay down.

...

He donned the Jedi robes, and flipped the hood over his head, the cowl covering his face and his force-signature dampened so one could only feel the light. He wasn't worried about someone noticing his force presence, because it had changed with the partial return to the light. It would forever be different even if he fully returned to the light. He was, after all scarred by the dark.

He walked the hallways unsuspected, and made his way to the crèche. He paused in front of the door, before turning and walking to a maintenance lift. He pressed the button that led to the lower levels, and walking out, chose to sit in a spot right underneath the familiar force-presence of his little angel.

His eyes snapped back open from their previously closed state as he pondered this new thought. Yes, his little angel. His guardian angel. He felt grieved. What if she knew of all of his murders? His hands stained with innocent blood? He had nothing to justify those. Would she leave him? He realized now that she was his only sanity. She had ripped him apart, yet was the only thing holding him together. He wouldn't survive if she rejected him. She was the only thing keeping him in the light, giving him hope! How? How did she do it? How was she so- bright?

And her clever usage of the words she so held in high regard. They had brought his fears to the light, held them up, threw them into his face. And did it so that he never really realized how. He had been forced to face his worst fears, and found himself for what he was: blind. Murderer. He had murdered his master in his heart and in so doing had made his master crippled for life. He had been blind to his wrongs. Only seeing the other's wrongs.

He clenched his teeth in pain. Wrong! Murderer! Alone! The words pounded into his head and he clutched his head in pain. In his pain, e didn't even notice that the familiar force-presence above him had shifted. To the front of him. Until that small hand rested tentatively on his arm.

His head whipped up, frantic, until he saw who it was. He stared at her face for a moment, finally seeing her for the first time in a bright light other than the faint street lights. And he saw her true beauty. Bright, smooth skin. A small nose slightly pointed upwards. The beautiful long eyelashes that sweeps against her cheeks and the soft, supple, full, small, red lips that were currently frowning in concern. And as always, her hair. In the light, there was truly a halo now, crowning her golden-brown head.

He stared at her, dazed, until she spoke. "Xan?" Her voice was a concerned whisper. He just stared. Until his mouth opened. And again, he asked a question.

"Are you an angel?" She tilted her head confusedly, until she suddenly smiled.

"No. I'm a pitiful, insolent brat."

He let out a half laugh, half sob and reached out for her, his hand barely brushing her cheek before withdrawing in shame. Her face crumpled.

"No. I don't deserve it." His voice was muffled by his hands.

She flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He felt her mind struggling against the shield he had put up against the bond, and he frowned.

"No, Kiya, little one. I'm too dark." She shook her head against his shoulder.

Her mind scratched like fingernails against the shield, desperately, pleadingly.

"No!" Her muffled sob made his heart break. "I want it!"

He gave in, opening the link. And shuddered as the light flooded in again. The forgiveness was blinding, scalding. And oh, the blessed love. Love!

He shook his head. "Don't." His voice was raspy. "I don't deserve it for what I've done. I'm a murderer! I killed innocents! All in cold blood. How do I survive with it? How do I move past it all?" He pulled back and shook the girl's shoulders.

"Reject me, Kiya, leave me! Don't accept me! Don't forgive me!"

He shook with sobs. He wanted to plead with her not to love him, but he couldn't. No, he couldn't let go of that one thing! Yes, he realized, she was right from the moment they met. One thing they both wanted. Each pursuing it in their own way. Precious. Too precious to receive. He couldn't take her love. But it was being given, freely! No! He wasn't worthy!

He heard her small, precious voice in his head. "Don't ask me to do that! I can't do it! Don't you see? You've solved me! You listened to your heart. That was the one way you could solve me. Nothing else would work. That was the key. The answer. I was waiting, for you! The one thing I wanted was a family. Too valuable to ask for. Nothing I could take. I needed you, because you were the brother I had always wanted. Never gotten. With you, my father would be healed. We would all be loved. Can't you see? Don't ask me to leave you! It's all I ever wanted!"

He didn't care about the tears that streamed down his cheeks. He didn't care about getting caught. He basked in his wonderment of the child. His precious angel! His hope, his salvation! He clutched the girl to him, and let their minds mingle.

The light washed away all of his anger, the darkness that had clouded him for too long. The blessed light! It flooded his mind, tried to brush away the darkness that lingered. But it still remained. That one spot. Above his Force-Signature. The dark reinforced the shields, railed in anger. She withdrew sadly.

He sighed. "Little one," his voice cracked. "It has been said that once turned, always turned."

She shook her head vehemently. "No! I know it can be done! You're my brother! It will be in time!" She stomped her foot like the child she was, and he breathed a small laugh.

"Pouty."

Her tear-streaked face cracked with a smile.

He suddenly stood. "I must leave. Before they catch me." She grasped his hand determinedly. "Then I'll go with you." He shook his head. "I don't want to get you into trouble, angel."

She smiled at the name. "Just to your speeder." He sighed. Bless the child and her stubbornness.

"As you wish."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They walked the halls together, and the other Jedi who happened to pass them stared at them strangely. Who was this knight who had earned the trust of the well-know daughter of Qui-Gon Jinn? And why did the Force swirl around them as if they were protected by the Force itself?

All went well for them until they rounded one corner. His angel gave a little gasp and stopped. He also froze. Sith. Of all people, it had to be Qui-Gon. The man stared at them suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

"Kiya? Who is this?"

The girl sighed. "A good friend, father."

He froze. Father. Father. He felt- broken. How could he have done this? How could he have plotted the murder of his angel's father? He moaned mentally in anguish. Until he felt her presence in his mind, comforting him. He stiffened in panic. He hadn't blocked the bond! No doubt now his former master had felt it...

"A friend." He smiled warily. "I see. And why would he hide himself?"

He squeezed the tiny hand in his own apologetically. And letting go, pushed back his hood. Immediately, a lightsaber was held at his throat.

"I see. So you have finally come to make good on your promise. So you try to kill my daughter, coerce her away and get me that way. What have you done to her? How have you brainwashed her?" He swallowed. Force, help! How could he start?

He opened his mouth, eyes on his master, pleading. "Master." He whispered pleadingly. It was all he could get out. The lightsaber wavered slightly, before being held steady once more.

"No, Xanatos, you will have to try harder than that."

"Daddy, please! Won't you listen to him? For my sake?"

He never wavered his gaze.

"Yes, Kiya. The council will as well." He swapped positions, lightsaber now held to his back. "Come. And see who this really is, Kiya."

He have his angel a pleading look, but her face remained calm, and her eyes flashed with determination that was eerily familiar in the misty blue depths. How could he have not seen it before? Blind, he thought bitterly.

They arrived at the council chambers, and he felt the masters instantly tense at the sight of him. "What is this?" The crisp voice of Mace Windu made him want to cringe.

He listened to the flat explanation given to the council, and watched their reaction. His eyes were dull. He knew what he had to do. And he would do it. For her sake. He couldn't be this selfish!

"How do you plead?" The voice that asked him the question sounded weary and wary, obviously expecting the plead for innocence.

"I plead guilty." His voice made a stir in the council. One of shock. He saw Kiya's eyes widen and he turned away. /I'm sorry, angel. I can't live with it./ he saw her eyes fill, and clenched his teeth.

"Then you must be executed." The voice was flat.

"No!" His head whipped around to the direction of the sound, to see his angel wavering on her feet unsteadily. "Kill him and you kill me too!"

He saw the council stiffen. "Release your hold on the girl's mind, Xanatos."

"There is no mind-holding!" She practically screeched. "See for yourself!" He felt her mind open in the Force. The masters decided to humor her, and see for themselves. There were gasps of shock. He had no doubt that they had seen almost everything. Her dreams. Her words.

"See? You kill me and I go with him!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she knelt to the ground, hands clasped. And he felt tears stream down his own as he watched as she pleaded for his life. His good-for-nothing life.

"Please! By the Force, by everything right and clean, please, spare my brother. I can't live without him. I can't stand to live without him. I've been waiting my whole life! Please, don't take this one thing I've ever wanted away from me!"

He heard the council's shocked silence. He heard the clatter of a saber hitting the smooth tiled floors, and looked to see that his master was staring at his daughter, face absolutely ashen and nerveless fingers trembling.

He sank to his knees, head bowed. Why? Why, angel? Why was she, so clean and pure, pleading for his black, stained soul? Why? No! He wanted to be killed! He wanted to leave this miserable life! But then, he realized, again. He was being selfish again. He wanted to leave, wanted to kill her too? He wanted to deny her a brother? And it went back and forth. Which was right?

"He must die, young one. He cannot be turned to the light." The voice of Windu made his heart shatter. He was right. He couldn't be tur-

A scream echoed through the council room. A scream of pain. A scream of torture. The scream of a child being ripped away from his mother. A scream of denial. He felt the blood drain away from his face as he vaguely saw her lurch forward on her knees.

And then everything seemed to be in slow motion. All sounds were dulled, nullified, a mere echo. He saw her grab the lightsaber on the floor and watched in horror as it pierced through her stomach. He vaguely heard the yell of panic, shock, and horror that came from all those present in the council room. He heard his own yell of pain as he felt the bond fray until it was a mere thread.

He scrambled forwards on his knees and reached for the girl's limp body. He felt everyone freeze. The tears streaked down his cheeks anew as his scream of deprive net echoed throughout the room. He looked down at the pale face of his angel.

"No, no, oh angel, what have you done?" He moaned. "Why? Why?"

She struggled in pain to breathe. "I can't do it, Xany. I can't live without you. I will go with you." Her voice was weak and frail.

He gritted his teeth and opened the bond fully. He felt her presence course through his mind and stagger, stumbling in pain.

...

She felt herself slipping, but carried on. She reeled through his mind frantically, searching for the center. She clutched her stomach in pain and winced at the blood that came away on her fingers, sticky, warm, and wet.

She finally found the center. The dark, looming shields, that held the blackness within. She gathered what was left of her strength and beat with all her might against the shields. They shuddered and cracked.

She gathered all of the light and love and forgiveness she had to give and hurled it against the shields.

One moment they were there, unyielding, the next moment, they were gone. She stood for a moment, dazed, then stumbled her way through the wreckage, the remnants cutting and bruising her feet, her legs, her hands and knees where she fell from stumbling over one of the pieces.

She finally fell and crawled the rest of her way towards the center. She found the force-signature and crawled weakly towards it. It was like an engraving in marble, in his mind.

She crawled into it. It was covered, the indentation of the engraving, filled with dirt, grime, filth, grease, all mingled into a thick, black slime. Tears streaming down her cheeks from the pain, she scraped away at the filth, scraping away all of the gunk as best she could, revealing the white surface of the bottom.

The blood from her stomach and knees and hands pooled, running in a stream down the engraving. She slumped, exhausted, and watched weakly as her blood slowly filled the signature. Whatever her blood touched became bright, white and unsullied, clean and pure. The darkness hissed and crumbled, disappearing.

And she smiled weakly and let her eyes close. Her job had been done.

...

He gritted his teeth as he felt her work, and when she was done, he reeled inwardly from the light headiness that accompanied the light. He looked back down at his sister. His angel. And saw that her eyes were closed, the sweet smile that he loved on her face.

And he let out apt he most heart-breaking scream in the world as he felt the bond snap, her presence fade. He rocked back and forth, cradling the body in his arms, feeling the warmth slowly dissipate.

And he fainted from the pain, falling forwards, his body sheltering hers amidst the blood and tile.

...

The council stood in shocked silence. They felt her work, watched her progress through his mind through the Force. Watched as the light flooded the dark mind, watched as she did the impossible and brought a dark Jedi back into the light.

Some of their eyes were filled with tears. Master Yoda's head was bowed, his eyes glistening in sorrow.

How could they have been so harsh? Mace's hand found its way onto Qui-Gon's shoulder. And he crumbled. The impassive swords master of the Jedi temple crumpled to the ground in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth. His precious daughter. His son. Gone.

Until they all looked up at the sound of a stir.

...

Xanatos felt himself slowly regain consciousness, and he sat up weakly, trembling in grief, pain, and fatigue.

And his eyes shot open at a movement in his arms. He looked down at his angel's still figure, and was shocked to see the wound in her stomach gone. He frantically looked for her amulet, and found it intertwined with his own. Both of the crystals were glowing brightly.

And her eyes shot open. Wide. Green, to amber, to misty blue. He stared. Surely he was dreaming, hallucinating from grief. Until he saw the smile on her face.

"You didn't thank me, insolent brat."

He let out a shaky laugh and then gripped her tightly, sobbing in relief.

"Angel. My precious angel." He whispered. She hugged him back, and he felt her soft fingers comb through his hair. So soft. So good. She smelled clean and fresh, and he smelled the shampoo in her hair and smiled softly. Oh, to smell it everyday. He ran his shaking fingers through her hair. And watched her face as she smiled brightly. She leaned forward and kissed every one of his tears away, and kissed his cheeks and his forehead. And ended with a sloppy one to his nose with an impish giggle.

He smiled and reverently kissed her cheeks as she cooed and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt a hand in his shoulder, and looked up through aching, red eyes at the face if his master.

"My son." The words made his heart fill with a promise, forgiveness, love. And the three knelt together on the floor, hugging and crying in joy. The masters were smiling unashamedly through tears at the sight.

And a few more streaked down their cheeks at the little girl's words.

"I love you!"


End file.
